Ramification
by RedKaddict
Summary: Squall is haunted by the false reality he encountered while lost in time. But he's slowly regaining his grasp on the present. Oneshot, postgame, first-person, elements of Squall/Rinoa.


A steady, cooling breeze blows gently through, carrying with it the taste of salt and the sounds of tinkling music and laughter. It's definitely a welcome sensation – one more scrap of evidence that I am, in fact, alive. The soft vibrations of Garden's massive engines send small tremors up my legs, but it's the brisk night air that truly keeps me grounded in reality. It cools the overheated skin of my face, tousling my hair as it takes me into its reassuring hold. My eyes drift closed as I breathe in deeply.

It's been a few days already, but I'm only just now coming to grips with the stability of everything. Memories and sensations from being lost still plague me from time to time, particularly in the dark silence of the earliest hours. Just this morning, I awoke in a cold sweat, grasping at drenched sheets, the walls, anything to hold myself anchored to the present. To reality. Those horrors, that empty feeling of being utterly lost and alone… They haunt my dreams, fogging my mind and chilling my heart like a malevolent specter.

I dream of her. Over and over again, my memories replaying like a damaged video feed. Her face is twisted and distorted, and I can't recall it no matter how hard I try. Her gentle eyes, her sweet smile… The feeling they give me is there, easily elicited, but the image refuses to focus. As if it never really happened.

A fantasy slipping from reality, an illusion shattered by the cruel truth.

I try, over and over and over again. Constantly replaying my memories in the fevered state of the nightmare. Trying unsuccessfully to bring her into focus. Everyone else comes through like crystal, various events from our journey. But every memory with her is blurred out, faded, damaged. Nonexistent. Inconsistent. Illusory.

I find myself lost all over again, desperately clawing for some kind of traction in reality. But she is my strongest tie, my only hope of finding my way out. And my grip is slipping. With every replay, the images become fuzzier and more distorted. The weight of despair slowly constricts my chest, squeezing tighter and tighter with each blurry face. The one that does me in, though… Every time, the one that crushes my heart with an icy finality… is the one image of her that comes through completely clear.

I still can't see her face, hidden in the shadow of scant starlight. But I know it's her. Two rings float listlessly in the weightlessness of the void, seemingly trying to escape the carnage to which they are chained. Her skin is so pale it makes me sick, her parted lips taking on a deathly pallor in the cold half-light. The blade-like shards of her shattered mask tumble toward me with lethal intent, slicing through my already bleeding heart to put me out of my misery.

That's when I wake up. Every time, startling myself out of the nightmarish memories and grasping at anything I can to try and ground myself back in reality. It fades a little more with every morning I find myself still here. But every once in a while, the sensation of helplessness and isolation descends on me in the waking world, leaving me with a floating sort of feeling of fragmented reality and perception. I begin to wonder if I ever truly escaped the personal little hell I'd found myself in, or if there was still a part of me stuck there, living out new and elaborate forms of torture and pain.

This was one of those times. Somewhere along the chaos and celebration, amidst the laughter and the antics and the near-constant ridiculousness, that wondering sensation fell over me. I quietly excused myself out to the balcony, hoping to find some stability in the quiet out here. I could hear her footsteps as she followed me out, but I didn't turn to look. Fear plagued me that, if I did, I'd only find the blurred image of her tragically distorted face greeting me once again.

The cool night breeze brings with it the smell of the ocean and a strange sort of solidity. My feverish brain calms a bit as I watch the rolling waves beneath us in the darkness, the sounds of the water and the distant ongoing celebration gently permeating my senses. It's a clear night, a million and one stars peppering the eternal void of the sky. But they cast a warmer light than the ones in my dreams. A single trail of silver briefly interrupts the silence and stillness of the night sky, like a flash of lightning skimming the surface for an instant before disappearing forever without a trace. The sight brings a small, involuntary smile to my face, the security and stability granted by the cool breeze giving me just enough courage to turn in her direction.

She's standing there, leaning casually against the balcony wall and gazing up at the sky. As if she hadn't a care in the world. I don't know that I've ever seen her so relaxed. Even in our early days, when she seemed so carefree, there was always a subtle weight on her shoulders. That weight is gone now, and she looks all the more beautiful for it.

She turns toward me then, her face – I am relieved to note – crystal clear against the soft light coming from the ballroom at her back. A playful, reminiscent smile lights up her eyes as she points to the heavens in a silent, rhetorical question. My own smile only widens as a comfortable gravity settles over me, weighing me down and keeping me firmly anchored. This is my reality. There is no doubt in my mind now. It will take time, but eventually I will never doubt again.

I move forward, pulling her close and sealing my confident grasp on the present with a lingering kiss, sending my mind into a whole new world of heady sensations and weightlessness. This. I much prefer this reality.

* * *

A/N: I was aiming to portray a bit of a different side to Squall, something still analytical, but less burdened and... angsty is a bit of a harsh word. Anyway, I hope I've achieved that. And I hope you've enjoyed my little foray into his head. The title gave me no end of trouble, but after looking up the definition of the word 'Ramification' (which can mean either consequences, or to divide or branch something, which to me spoke volumes about his splintering reality), I knew I'd finally found it. Leave me a review if you enjoyed it!


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